


Bite-Sized Snacks

by Lazare_syn



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: 100 words, Alternate Universe, Angst, Fic Snippets, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Partying, Riding, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Witch AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-02-07 12:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazare_syn/pseuds/Lazare_syn
Summary: LoL Esports RPF snippets not long enough to warrant their own fic, and WIPs that I will likely never complete.The E rating is for chapter 2 only. Most other chapters are T-rated at most.





	1. Bjergsen/Svenskeren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LandelBeyoncePuncher, using her Witch AU as inspiration. Dennis is a plant witch. Søren is a hapless human.

Plants of all shapes and sizes sprawl over almost every inch of Dennis’ room. Ferns hang from the ceiling, vines creep across the bedpost, and potted flowers and grasses dot the tables, chairs, and even the floor. Bottles and stoppers and other strange implements made of iridescent glass poke out amidst the chaotic greenery, providing an extra pop of colour. Søren gazes at it all in awe.

 

“Yeah, so this is my room as it actually is,” Dennis explains shyly. “I usually keep it under a glamour so it looks like a normal guy’s room.”

 

With a wave of his hand, the plants all disappear, leaving behind nothing but a frumpy-looking mattress and a small pile of clothing in the corner.

 

“But they’re all still there, right?” Søren asks. “What if someone accidentally steps on one of your plants?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re all insubstantial while under the glamour. Nothing can touch or bring harm to them in that form.”

 

With another wave, the plants all come back into view. Søren has to hastily sidestep a large fern that suddenly appears above him before it can smack him in the head. A small, blue-green leaf falls off one of the flowering plants on the windowsill, which looks like it’s starting to wilt. Dennis walks over and picks it up.

 

“So, you wanted to see one of my spells, right?” he asks Søren, absent-mindedly twirling the leaf in his hand. Søren nods eagerly.

 

Dennis gives the leaf another twirl, then holds it above the plant it came from. He closes his eyes, and murmurs something soft and encouraging. The plant shudders, then, in a flash of light, perks up and looks good as new. When Søren looks back down, the leaf Dennis had been holding is now back on the plant.

 

“That’s so cool,” Søren whispers admiringly. The tips of Dennis’ ears turn pink. 

 

“It’s nothing special,” he says modestly, “just a really basic refreshment spell.”

 

“Still way better than anything I can do.” Søren walks over a large, leafy plant in the corner of the room. “I tried to keep a plant once, but I kept forgetting to water--Ow!”

 

Søren jerks back from the plant. His hand, which had been reaching out to touch one of the leaves, is dotted with blood. Dennis rushes over to him. 

 

“Oh no, that’s the Betrayer,” he frets, gently taking Søren’s bleeding hand in his own. “It’s not safe to touch without protection because it’s covered in invisible spines.”

 

“Why would a plant need invisible spines?” Søren mutters, distracted by the pain. It hurts a lot more than he’d expected it too, and numbness is starting to spread up his arm.

 

Dennis gazes at his rapidly worsening condition with concern.

 

“The spines are coated in a minor poison. It doesn’t affect everyone, but I guess you’re susceptible to it. I-I don’t have the antidote on hand, but I think I can whip up something really quick.”

 

“Not sure how long I can take this,” Søren mumbles, voice becoming slurred from the sudden effort of speaking. The pain is almost unbearable at this point.

 

“Oh Gods, you’re one of the 1% of people who’re severely allergic to Betrayer toxin,” Dennis says. He sounds distant, like he’s talking from the hallway instead of right next to Søren. “The antidote will take a couple minutes to make, and the toxin takes longer than that to become fatal, but in the meantime…” he hesitates. 

 

“In the meantime, I’ll make you as comfortable as possible.”

 

The last thing Søren remembers seeing is Dennis bending down and taking Søren’s fingers into his mouth. He feels a sudden rush of soothing comfort and relief, then nothing.

 

An hour later, Søren is gently shaken awake by Dennis. He’s putting away a small pot filled with a pungent-smelling medley of crushed herbs.

 

“How do you feel?” Dennis asks. Søren raises his arm to look at his hand. Not only does it no longer hurt, the soothing feeling from before is still there. He wonders if there’s something special about Dennis’ saliva, then immediately puts a lid on that train of thought before it can get inappropriate.

 

“Pretty good,” he says. Dennis looks immensely relieved.

 

“That’s good. You’ll probably need a few more minutes of rest before you’re back at full strength. I’m sorry I didn’t keep a close eye on you, you almost died and it was my fault.”

 

“Hey, you weren’t the one touching weird magical plants without asking first,” Søren says, smiling weakly. He leans up, giving Dennis a feeble hug. “Thanks for saving me,” he whispers into his ear, and delights in the way Dennis turns bright pink.

 


	2. Broxah/Caps (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also written for LandelBeyoncePuncher, who asked for Brops riding. Sadly I only got a couple hundred words in before I got stuck...

Rasmus clutches at Mads’ broad shoulder, gasping against his naked chest as Mads enters him.

“You okay?” Mads asks, gentle voice belying the fact that he’s pressing into Rasmus, filling him up so much he feels like he’s going to burst. Mads is as well-endowed down there as he is everywhere else, and the initial breach is always the hardest part. It’s all worth it, though.

“Yeah,” he gasps out after a moment of discomfort. “M’fine. Keep going.”

After months of nothing but the missionary position, Mads and Rasmus have decided to try something new, in no small part inspired by a small, illustrated booklet that someone (probably Paul) had slipped under their door. That’s why Rasmus is currently sitting astride his boyfriend’s lap, knees bracketing Mads’ thick thighs on the bedspread beneath them as they try this ‘riding’ thing for the first time.

Legs quivering, Rasmus bites his lip as he slowly starts to sink down onto Mads’ erection. The downward push meets halfway with Mads’ careful upward thrust, and the friction is good enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. From the the way Mads groans in response, the feeling is mutual.


	3. Doublelift/Biofrost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a "Bot Lanes have to have a Telepathic Bond for Synergy Purposes" AU I started but find myself unable to finish, due to the recent news of Biolift splitting up...Maybe I'll come back to the idea with different duo partners some other day.

They bring Vincent in to establish the bond on a Saturday.

The receptionist guides him to a room that’s empty except for two plastic chairs and an intimidating-looking machine.

He sits in one of the chairs and stares up at the machine while he waits. It’s a tall, dull grey thing covered in dials and switches, some of which have been taped over with masking tape. One particularly large switch has “DO NOT TOUCH” written on the tape covering it.

He wonders if it’ll hurt.

Several minutes later, he hears a soft thud behind him. Two figures walk into the room: a woman wearing a lab coat, and Peter. He looks the same as he did when they’d met in Korea, except right now he isn’t surrounded by empty fast food containers.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter says apologetically. He gives Vincent a casual wave as he takes a seat in the other chair, no hint of nervousness in his expression or posture.

It makes sense. He’s done this many times before.

The woman introduces herself as Doctor Animo, and wastes no time setting up the machine to perform the procedure.

“Establishment of a mental link can take up to a week to solidify,” she explains as she taps at the machine. “During that period, we recommend avoiding mentally taxing activities, as they could overwhelm the connection and result in mild to severe migraines for both parties. That includes video games, so no League of Legends until the link is good and ready. Is that understood?”

Vincent and Peter both nod, one earnestly and one with the air of someone who’s heard this spiel before and just wants to get it over with.

The doctor attaches several electrodes to Vincent and Peter’s heads, then flips a small switch that causes the machine to shudder to life.

“Alright,” she says, “then let’s begin.”

Thirty minutes later, Vincent is shaking the doctor’s hand farewell and following Peter to the car that will take them to TSM’s gaming house. His head feels a little fuzzy, like someone reached in and shifted things around just a little, but he can’t sense Peter’s presence in his mind at all. Hesitantly, he lifts a hand to brush his forehead, a part of him wondering if something went wrong with the procedure.

“Don’t bother,” says Peter, startling Vincent out of his thoughts. “We won’t be able to sense each other through the link until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“O-oh, okay,” Vincent says, bashfully lowering his hand.

They sit in silence for a moment, the streets of Los Angeles blurring past them. As he stares out the window, Vincent contemplates his new life. A couple of months ago, he was at home in Vancouver, spamming solo queue and not doing his homework. Now he’s in a different country, about to start playing League of Legends as his full-time job, and he’s just established a telepathic link with someone he’s spent less than two weeks with. His mind buzzes with thoughts.

“Does it always feel like this?” he asks, breaking the silence. Peter turns to look at him, tilting his head curiously.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Like your head’s about to...burst. Like something’s trying to get in but it can’t.”

Peter lets out a short bark of laughter. “Oh, yeah, it’s always like that at first. It’ll get better once the link is actually established. With me and Bora, our heads hurt like hell until the next day.”

Bora. Peter’s previous lane partner and legendary support player for Fnatic. Vincent wonders what it was like to have a connection with him. If Peter could see Bora’s memories of playing with his former team. Of having that connection with Rekkles. 

If Vincent will see these things with Peter.

Ever since TSM told him he’d been chosen as their next support player, he’s done a lot of reading on the mental link. Linked partners should only have access to each other’s surface thoughts, and thoughts one prefers to keep to themself can be filtered from the link with conscious effort. However, there have been a couple reports of “memory leakage” and deeply buried secrets coming to light thanks to a malfunctioning link or even a momentary lapse in effort.

Vincent doesn’t think he has anything particularly damning to hide, but there are many things he’d rather Peter not have access to. He’s sure Peter feels the same way.  
____________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Vincent wakes up with a splitting headache. It feels like his skull is trying to tear itself from his scalp, and as he lays there clutching at his head in agony, he wonders if taking this new job was such a great idea.

Reginald walks into his room without knocking a few minutes later. The pain has subsided a bit, though Vincent can still feel a dull, constant throb that worsens whenever he moves his head.

“Just wanted to check on you,” he whispers, obviously noticing Vincent’s current position hunched up in the corner of his bed.

“Peter says this time is especially bad for him, so it’s probably similar for you.” He holds out two painkillers and a glass of water, which Vincent takes gratefully.

“Try to sleep it off. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.”

Will it? Vincent wonders, dumping the pills into his mouth and taking a gulp of the water. The action makes the pain flare up, but a few minutes later he can feel the relief starting to kick in. He wonders how Peter can stand to do this time after time.

He lies back down, clutches a pillow to his chest, and falls back into a fitful slumber.


	4. Doublelift/Biofrost 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Future AU Biolift angst fic I started but wasn't sure how to continue.

It’s the first time he’s seen Peter in God knows how long. He’s wearing a blue sweater and chatting with his team on the other side of the stage, waving a pen around animatedly with one hand as his other hand clutches a notepad in a death grip that belies his nervousness.

Picks and bans are about to start. Vincent turns to his own team, still young and eager for guidance, and tells Felix to ban Taliyah.

Even with his back to Peter, he can feel the other man’s presence as if he was standing right next to him. He can feel his hands shaking as they tighten around the sheath of papers he’s carrying. He can’t think about Peter right now. His team needs him.

Picks and bans go well enough, Vincent feels. He’s not sure about the bottom lane matchup, but he’s confident that Jihun and Sejung can hold their own against Counter Logic Gaming’s bot lane duo. It’s the jungle they really need to watch out for; MikeYeung is no slouch, even with a champion that puts him at a slight disadvantage against Joel.

His job done for the moment, he walks to center stage, lights blinding as he and Peter approach each other for the traditional handshake. Part of him wants to bolt offstage before that happens, but he knows that would be more trouble than it was worth.

Peter grins at him as he walks up to Vincent, coolly confident the way Vincent remembers him being during the highest of highs.

He doesn’t think about the low points.

“So this is how we meet again, huh?” Peter says with a quick flash of teeth, reaching over to give Vincent’s hand a firm shake that Vincent nearly forgets to reciprocate.

“Interesting way to kick off both of our coaching careers, isn’t it? Almost like old times.”

Vincent nods mutely. His throat has closed up on him. Indeed, there’s something achingly familiar about all this. He hates it.

As they begin to part ways as they head backstage, Peter turns to him. “Hey, we should grab some drinks afterwards. Catch up, y’know.”

He doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to.

“Sure,” he croaks.

Peter smiles in response.


	5. Jesiz/Rekkles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some weird, fragmented, highly OOC snippets of a Jesiz/Rekkles fic where Jesiz joins Fnatic and finds that his new ADC is acting quite...strangely. I think my ultimate plan with this was someting magical, like someone put a curse on Rekkles to make him so emotionless, but that part didn't really emerge by the time I stopped writing it.
> 
> Written before I knew much about Jesiz, so a lot of facts are plain wrong here.

“Welcome to Fnatic.”

Jesse grins nervously at Finlay, who is standing in front of the Fnatic gaming house.

“Good to be here,” he says.

“Come on in,” Finlay smiles, opening the door.

As Jesse takes his first steps into the gaming house, the first thing he notices is that it’s surprisingly clean for a house mostly inhabited by young men. The second thing he notices is Martin.

Jesse has heard of of Martin, of course. But the man standing in front of him is undeniably different from what he’d been expecting.

His hair, usually perfectly coiffed in on stage and in videos, is matted and unkempt, like he’d just rolled out of bed. This would make sense if it weren’t for the fact that it was 6PM and he was otherwise fully dressed.

The expressionless look on his face is even more concerning.

\-----------------------------------

Slowly, Martin holds out his hands and looks up at him. His face is as expressionless as ever, but Jesse swears he can see something quiet and beseeching in his eyes. Like Martin wants him to do something, even if he won’t say it out loud.

Hesitantly, he takes Martin’s hands in his own. Martin is by no means a weakling, but his hands feel strangely brittle, like he could snap them off with the slightest twitch.

As their hands intertwine, Martin’s perfect teeth glitter as he flashes a brief smile at him. His eyes are half-lidded, and his head is tilted towards Jesse in just the right way, exposing his long, pale neck.

Maurice chooses that time to pass by, giving them a lazy wave of acknowledgement as he heads towards what Jesse assumes is the kitchen. Jesse looks up to acknowledge his new teammate, and by the time he looks back Martin’s face has settled back into a neutral stare.

Jesse suddenly becomes acutely aware of the fact that he’s been holding Martin’s hands for almost a minute. He lets go quickly, embarrassed; Martin’s blank expression doesn’t change.

“We should probably go grab dinner, shouldn’t we…” his voice trails off awkwardly. Without acknowledging him, Martin turns and walks into the kitchen.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Paul, Maurice and Rasmus all seem like they’d be boisterous from what he knows about them, but their natural exuberance has clearly been dampened by the presence of Martin, who picks silently at his food and alternates between staring at his meal and into the middle distance.

After dinner, Martin heads into his bedroom while Paul and Maurice take Rasmus and Jesse on a tour of the rest of the gaming house.

“What’s up with Rekkles?” Rasmus blurts out eventually, clearly unable to hold it back anymore. Paul and Maurice look at each other knowingly.

Maurice sighs. “Look. Martin’s been going through some personal stuff lately. It’s best not to ask him about it. He can still play League just fine, so don’t worry about it.”

“But he hasn’t talked all day,” Jesse finds himself pointing out, flushing when Paul, Maurice and Rasmus turn to look at him. “How will he be able to communicate in game and shot-call?”

“Like we said, don’t worry about it, kid,” Paul says firmly. And that was the end of that.

It wasn’t really, of course.

Playing with Martin is unsettling. He doesn’t say a word the entire game, yet his mechanics and game sense are as incredible as Jesse remembers them being, if not better. He alway seems to know where to be, and he carries the game without a single death.

As the victory screen pops up on their screens, Jesse grins in satisfaction. Two seats down, Rasmus leans back in his chair with an enthusiastic whoop. Paul and Maurice high five on the other side of the room.

Martin calmly gets up from his chair and leaves the room.

“Fuck, he’s so creepy,” Rasmus mutters to him as they wait for Paul and Maurice to bring Martin back.


	6. 100 words of drinking games (EU LCS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the 100 words prompt challenge I've begun. Note: fics may not be exactly or even close to 100 words each.

“Okay, okay!” Marcin crows as the group gradually settles down. “My turn! Never have I ever been unable to get it up with a girl.”

Oskar and Tristan immediately reach for their drinks, much to everyone else’s amusement. Next to Mads, Paul reluctantly lifts his glass and takes a sip. Jesse notices this and cackles drunkenly.

“I knew it! That’s why you left that girl’s place early last week!”

“Shut up,” Paul grumbles, taking a larger gulp of his drink this time.

Marcin nudges Mads from the other side. “Your turn, man.”

“Oh, uh,” Mads hesitates. He’s been distracted from the game most of the night, and now he’s not sure what to say. His gaze passes across Rasmus for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight. “Never have I ever...kissed another guy.” Unfortunately.

Jesse wolf-whistles from across the room. Rasmus blushes, but doesn’t reach for his drink. Next to Rasmus, Martin fake-scowls.

“Couldn’t you have said that one an hour ago?” He asks, before taking a swig of his drink. The group goes nuts.


	7. 100 words of fidelity (???)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware ambiguous pronoun (ab)use!

He’s licking at her exposed stomach in the corner of his eye. She giggles and moves to push him away, but drags him back for an open-mouthed kiss a couple moments later.

He sits at the bar, ordering another shot as he finishes off his drink. Someone slides in next to him. He thinks he’s seen her before, maybe here, maybe somewhere else. She touches his arm, asking a question with her eyes and the quirk of her mouth when he turns to look at her. He shakes his head. Not tonight. Her smile doesn’t waver, and she leaves him with a casual wave.

“I never-”

The sound of a door slamming. The crunching of footsteps in the snow that gets harder and harder to hear.

The bartender passes him the shot. He takes it and downs it gratefully. By the time he puts the glass down, he’s wrapped his arms around her, swaying sensually to the music together.

“-want to-”

Tears. Accusations. Comforting words from friends that mean well but don’t quite know what’s going on.

The music and lights are starting to blur together into one overwhelming cacophony. He leans into to whisper something in her ear, which makes her giggle. They lean towards each other.

“-see you again!”

_*Former Fnatic mid laner Febiven has joined H2K*_

She suddenly points to something next to him, causing him to let go of her waist and turn to look. Without hesitation, he picks up his jacket from the bar stool and shrugs it on. Time to go. He has a promise to keep.


	8. 100 words of lies (Deft/Imp)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more angst! yay!

"Miss me?"

Imp's taunting voice echoes through Deft's skull. It's been years since they were on the same team together. Hell, it's been years since they were in the same room together.

"Do you miss me, Hyukkyu?"

He likes his teammates on KT Rolster well enough. Smeb is brotherly. Score is quiet but nice. Ucal is eager to please. And Mata...well, Mata is Mata.

He might be the only one who could understand why Deft is sitting in his room, scrolling through old pictures on his phone. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. He and Imp never seemed to get along back on Samsung White.

On his screen, Imp is pressed up to Deft, cheek to cheek. Their fingers are tangled together loosely. Past Deft's mouth is curled down, like he doesn't want to be there.

The phone tumbles from his hand to the ground.

"No...I don't miss you at all."


End file.
